


Tuesday Evenings

by scarslikeconstxllations



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: 99 percent angst 1 percent fluff, Adrien has his life together surprise surprise, Adrien is persistent, Adrien is successful, Adrien just wants to help, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Alya helps but is MIA, Cinnamon Roll Adrien Agreste, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Like Really Badly, Marinette is basically an alcoholic, Marinette is stubborn as heck, Marinette's parents miss her, Older Marinette, Other characters are MIA, Rich Adrien, Semi-mature but also not really, Struggling Marinette, marinette needs a hug, no sex sorry, older adrien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarslikeconstxllations/pseuds/scarslikeconstxllations
Summary: Adrien Agreste is a successful CEO of his father's fashion line. Every Tuesday evening, he heads to a local bar downtown to have a drink or two. He finally gets the courage to confront an old classmate who is in quite the opposite situation than his own, and things get . . . interesting.





	Tuesday Evenings

**Author's Note:**

> A.n. This is something I posted on my Amino account and I quite liked the feedback I received on it, so here you go. This contains some maturity in the sense that Marinette is basically a struggling alcoholic who refuses to accept help from a golden-haired cinnamon roll of a man. Aged-up characters as the tags say. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

**❝ ɪ ғᴀʟʟ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇs ❞**

_▸ Soft music droned through the speakers of a small, local bar. It was nestled on the outskirts of the city, and didn’t typically get many visitors. Tuesdays were slower than usual, possibly because everyone was burnt out from Monday. Three figures were in the main room. One bartender with olive-toned skin and dark hair wiped down the counter with a wet rag, in a slow back and forth motion. She eyed the woman sitting in front of her with mild interest. Behind the woman at a table, sat a man who is stirring his cocktail with his pinky finger. Both had been there for some time. ◂_

“Are you going to finish that, sweetie?” the bartender asked the woman. She looked up, her deep blue eyes shining with unshed tears. Apologetically, the bartender shook her head and poured another drink. Sliding it across the counter, she turned her attention to the man in the back. Her shift was nearly over, but she couldn’t leave with these two there. “What about you honey?”

The blonde haired lad looked up, quickly standing from his chair and running a hand across the back of his neck. “Uh, I’ll have one more. The usual. Put it on my tab please.”

Nodding, the bartender poured him a final drink and moved to hand it to him. He quickly shook his head, indicating that she could leave it on the counter. Shrugging, she swung the rag over her shoulder and disappeared into the back room. The door slams shut behind her, echoing in the nearly deserted room.

The blonde lad slowly walked up to the bar and took a seat next to the girl with raven hair and blue eyes, still shining with tears. A few escaped and were slowly sliding down her flushed cheeks. With shaking hands, she raised the glass to her lips and took another sip. It wasn’t clear whether all the alcohol had actually affected her or not. Adrien, the blonde man, knew that she was a regular there. He saw her every Tuesday night and inquired about her to one of the bartenders.

Being in his late twenties, Adrien Agreste was in a pretty successful place in his life. He was the co-owner of the company his father started, a fashion line under their family name. Adrien had a good and well-paying position and happened to enjoy his work. He was still in contact with one of his best friends from high school. It was easy to say that he enjoyed the current situation he was in. His only regret was losing contact with his biological mother. It came back to haunt him quite often.

The bluenette next to him was in quite the opposite predicament.

She was in her late twenties as well, though a year younger than him. Unfortunately, she was not in a successful place. Having been fired from her job at a boutique months earlier, she was currently picking up whatever pay she could by working at a music and film shop downtown. The pay was minimum wage, and she found herself behind on her rent payments. Her apartment was small and simple, yet she could barely afford to live there. She didn’t hate her job, but she just wasn’t happy. Having lost contact with her family years earlier in fear of disappointing them, Marinette Dupain-Cheng had no one but her high school best friend left to get her through her life. As of right now, Alya Césaire was the sole reason for Marinette’s existence. If it wasn’t for her best friend, she would have pulled the plug on her life a long time ago.

Adrien recognized Marinette from their high school years, he wasn’t oblivious. But he was scared to approach the trembling girl, who was biting her lip and trying not to sob. Sitting next to her was hard enough for him. Taking a slow sip of his own drink, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. Finally, he could take it no more. Slamming his drink down on the counter, he swiveled his stool to face her. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he cracked a shy grin, hoping to make the bluenette smile. “What a pleasure.”

Marinette barely acknowledged him. Instead, she pushed back from the counter so quickly that her stool nearly toppled over. She prepared to jump down, ready to leave the building.

“Wait!” Adrien cried, reaching to grab her arm. He quickly pulled his hand away though, seeing as it was a bit inappropriate of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just . . . You’ve been here every Tuesday since I started going and I . . . Don’t you recognize me?” Upon her burning, blank stare, he leaned back in surprise. “It’s me, Adrien. Adrien Agreste?”

Marinette’s lip curled up in a sneer. “Oh yes, I remember you. Mr. Model and world-renowned fashion designer, CEO of his daddy’s company. It’s a /pleasure/ to meet your acquaintance, sir. I’m sorry, I’ll try to contain my excitement.”

Sensing the bitterness in her tone and the clearly sarcastic nature of it, Adrien’s face fell. “I . . . That’s not what I meant. We used to be friends in high school . . . Well, kind of.”

Here’s the thing: Adrien and Marinette’s high school friendship was awkwardly rocky. The girl had a crush on him since freshman year but had never come around to express her love for him. Unfortunately, Adrien knew all about her crush from a fellow model and classmate, Chloé Bourgeois. Of course, she also happened to have a crush on him. Adrien was oblivious all throughout the four years of their lives, but he was aware of Marinette’s adoration for him. Unfortunately, that made the girl shun herself from his view, cutting off their friendship out of embarrassment. It happened at the start of senior year, and Adrien had always felt responsible for it. His crush on Ladybug seemed to be the problem.

Speaking of the infamous red bug, his relationship with her was no less awkward. Ladybug seemed to lose her confident and bossy nature coming out of high school. She was no longer willing to play along with his teasing or jokes, or even to shut him down when he took it a bit too far in the love category. Instead, she just took everything he said with a tired look in her eyes. It was like she was drained of all life and color. He barely recognized her if it weren’t for the red spandex.

Looking at the empty and venomous look in Marinette’s eyes, he could see parallels to the looks he received from Ladybug. But this . . . This was full of much more anger and resentment. Why was she acting like this to him? Why had she shut him out senior year, only to look at him again years later with darkness in her pretty blue eyes? Adrien awaited her response with baited breath and a heavy heart.

Marinette slowly relaxed in her seat once more. A smile slowly brought itself onto her face, and soon she was cackling. She nearly fell off the stool, she was laughing so hard. Taking another sip of her drink, she answered without looking at him. “I just can’t shake you, Agreste. Can I?”

Adrien, feeling very nervous in the situation, swiveled his chair around to face the front once more. Swallowing, his took a tentative a sip of his drink and didn’t look at her. But out of the corner of his eye, he could see that her maniacal laughter was making its way to tears once more. Soon enough, the bluenette was crying into her arms.

Shocked and appalled, Adrien reached over to comfort her. But to his surprise, she jerked away from his grasp. Lifting her head, she hissed at him in irritation. “Don’t lay a hand on me, Agreste. I don’t need your pity.”

Adrien, baffled by the strange predicament, moved his hand away and instead used it to draw circles in the condensation his glass has formed. He could see Marinette shaking her head out of the corner of his eye, but takes no further action.

Marinette wiped her eyes with her sleeve. The cheap, drugstore mascara ran down her face, and she mopped it up in annoyance. Still irritated, she ripped off her sweatshirt and tossed it on the counter. Burying her face in it, she breathed deeply.

Adrien jumped and looked away awkwardly, a scarlet blush coating his cheeks. Marinette was adorned in a thin-strapped tank top, and it was hard to keep his eyes off of her. Suddenly taking note of how thin she has become since high school, his eyes widen in realization. Her ribs are nearly poking through the fabric, and Adrien saw multiple scratches and bruises on her pale, skinny arms. With her sunken eyes blackened with mascara and her thin, frail body, she looked almost skeletal in the lowlight of the bar.

On the outside, Marinette appeared to be malnourished and abused. But truth be told, she couldn’t afford to pay for groceries. Blowing most of her money at the bar, she barely found the motivation or funds to eat anymore. The bruise and scrapes weren’t entirely self-inflicted. Most were from her escapades as a hero, where she was too frail to heal properly from them. Years ago was a different story. Though she was always thin, even as a child, this was of a magnitude that even she could barely understand. But she didn’t care as much about her health as she once did, so here she sat at the bar, blowing away more of her precious cash and wasting away into nothingness.

Adrien was no less than horrified—but what could he say? She clearly didn’t want his insightful input or encouraging words. Saying, “It will get better” to someone who looked like they were raised from the dead didn’t seem like the best choice. So instead, he offered to buy her another drink.

Marinette lifted her head and squinted at him, her mascara-streaked face scrutinized his features. “What’s it to you?” Her voice cracked slightly, sounding hoarse and broken.

“Nothing,” Adrien replied, not looking directly at her. Instead, he focused his attention on the window over her shoulder. The city was deserted, the lonely Parisian lights doing all that they could to assist the moon and stars at night. “I merely want to help, and it looks like you enjoy your time here based solely on how often you come.”

Marinette barked out a sarcastic laugh, throwing her head back with it. “Sure thing, darling. I definitely /enjoy/ my time here.” Her laughter faded, and she gazed at a spot on the counter with a sudden sadness.

“Then why do you come?” Adrien asked, understanding her sarcasm upfront. “If you don’t enjoy it I mean.” He was treading on thin ice, but he didn’t mind. Worst come to worst he could leave and come back next Tuesday.

Marinette stared at him, her eyes swimming with two blue oceans. “I don’t think I have anywhere else to go anymore.”

Adrien was taken back by the surprising answer. “What do you mean?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Surely you have a home, and work, and a family with some friends—“

“You don’t get it, do you?” Marinette interrupted bitterly. How could he, he barely knew her? “What am I kidding, of course you don’t. Why would you? You’re Mr. Perfect, everything in your life has been handed to you on a silver platter. You wouldn’t understand struggle if I hit you in the face with it,” she sneered.

Adrien gaped at her, leaning forward on the counter so he was right in her face. “Excuse me,” he scoffed, “I do know struggle—“

Marinette wasn’t deterred. “And what struggle would that be, Mr. CEO-Model?” Her eyes were blazing then, lighting the oceans in her eyes on fire.

Adrien sputtered at this. “I-I haven’t seen my mom in years. Since I was a child!”

Marinette blinked at him. “I haven’t had contact with either of my parents in years.”

Adrien leaned back. “Hey—You know what? Just because I’m successful it doesn’t mean I don’t understand the struggle. I chose to do something with my life, which is more than I can say for most people,” he spat viciously.

Even though the words weren’t directly directed at her, Marinette felt them sting like a bullet wound. Her mouth opened and closed in shock, trying to think of a witty reply off the top of her head. But she could find none, and she instead grabbed her sweatshirt and heads to the door.

Adrien instantly realized his mistake. “Wait—Marinette! I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” He rushed after her, trying to catch up to her swift pace. He reached to grab her arm, and his warm hand made contact with her cool skin. She stiffened instantly at his touch, and though he was only touching her forearm he instantly felt the inappropriateness of the situation. Quickly apologizing, he retracted his hand.

Marinette turned away from him once more and walked out of the bar. Ignoring him calling after her, she stumbled into the street and started to walk in the direction of her apartment. Adrien caught up to her, and once again attempted to apologize and grab her attention.

“Mari, I’m so sorry. Please let me take you home, you’re intoxicated—“ Adrien tried.

“I don’t need your charity, Agreste,” Marinette spat. “And for the record, only my friends can call me Mari. So that does NOT give YOU permission.” Every word was like a dagger to Adrien’s chest, but he ignored them all.

“Marinette,” he said gently, trying to keep the tremor from his voice, “who hurt you?”

And just like that, the fragile, scared girl was back, the one trapped behind a well-designed mask. “Life, Agreste. Life hurt me.” She turned away, but Adrien could still see the tears running down her bony cheeks in the light of the street lamps. “Life has always been cruel, but it’s especially cruel to me. It picks me up only to throw me from a distance twice as high and three times as far. It breaks up my hope and happiness into little pieces and stomps on it until it’s just dust and ashes that are left.

“I don’t think you understand, do you? Dare I even ask? I don’t know why I bother. I should go home and drown myself with my tears in the cracked porcelain of my bathtub, broken like the scars upon my skin. I should continue to waste away my days working a job that doesn’t even allow me to afford my basic necessities and waste my nights drinking my problems away. Since that’s all I feel able to do anymore,” she finished.

Adrien was stunned. A minute ago, she wouldn’t even look him in the eye, and now she was opening up to him completely. Trying to conceal his shock, he pressed his hand comfortingly upon her shoulder. She flinched but made no move to remove it. “I know life is hard, Marinette. Everyone has their different struggles, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand.”

Marinette scoffed, crossing her arms and turning away from him. Adrien let his hand fall from her shoulder, the comforting smile slipping from his face. Sighing, he stared up at the sky just as the first of many raindrops land on the pavement. Soon enough, it was pouring, and Adrien attempted to shield himself with his jacket. Marinette let the rain soak her skin, matting down her messy hair and further smearing her makeup.

“Let me take you home at least,” he offered gently. “It’s pouring now and you’re well . . . intoxicated.”

Marinette shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Adrien bit his lip at that, then shook his head. “Let’s go, I’m not letting you walk home alone.” He motioned for her to follow him. “My car is that way.”

Marinette turned away, staring at the street ahead in defiance. Adrien rubbed a hand over his face, thoroughly frustrated with her stubbornness.

“Look, Marinette. I’m not trying to be charitable here. I’m trying to be a good friend. I know we haven’t made contact with each other with high school, and frankly, I blame myself for that.” He was going to mention the incident, then decided against it and switched gears. “One car ride is all I ask. We can even go to my place to get you some tea and something to eat.” He glanced at her soaked clothing and adds, “Maybe some dry clothes. The point is, I’m just trying to be a friend. You don’t have to accept my help, you can do whatever you wish. But you seem to be cold, hungry, lonely, and in need of someone to talk to. If you let me, I can help. If not,” he shrugged, “then that’s your loss frankly.”

He turned and continued walking towards his car. If she followed him, he would know she was accepting his offer. If not, then she was pushing him away again. It was a few moments before Adrien heard the footsteps rushing to catch him with him. Fighting back a grin, he unlocked his car and opens the door for her.

Marinette stared at the silver Ferrari with widened eyes. Realising what she was doing, she scoffed and covered up her shock with an eye roll. “Of course you would own one of these,” she grimaced.

Adrien raised a brow, noting her hesitance to step inside the car. “Is there a problem?”

“Unless you want your expensive leather seats to get wet, I don’t think I should sit here.”

Adrien nodded in understanding, pressing his mouth into a thin line. “One second,” he said, then headed to the trunk. Lifting the lid, he rummaged around a bit before pulling out a pile of folded blankets. Heading to the side once more, he laid one across each seat. Then he handed one to her and took the last for himself. “Dry off and try to stay warm until we get to our destination,” he told her.

Marinette reluctantly took the blanket and wrapped it around herself. Her tiny frame was swallowed by the linen, and Adrien couldn’t help but smile fondly. Marinette self-consciously stepped inside, and Adrien closed the door behind her. A few moments later he stepped into the car himself and started it up.

“Where to?” he asked, not knowing if she was okay with going to his place. His intentions were pure, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“Wherever,” Marinette mumbled, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to gain some warmth. She was clearly shivering, her bony body shaking with each tremor from the chilly rain.

Adrien pressed his lips together tersely, then turned up the heat. “My place it is then.”

The rain poured down harder then. Trees swayed in the angry wind, their limp bodies dancing to someone else’s tune. The radio droned on in the background, playing an old song. Adrien switched it off, in favor of the looming silence. He stole a glance at her as he put the car in drive and began to pull out of the parking lot.

“So,” he attempted to break the silence sometime later. He glanced at her once more and saw that she had her back faced to him, staring intently out the window. Her shaking hands reached out to dance along the glass, following the path of the raindrops. She watched the raindrops disappear from sight with a sudden sadness. “I want to ask . . . What happened after high school that made everything get so . . . bad for you?” He didn’t want to offend her with the question, though he thought he had a right to know considering what he was doing for her.

Marinette was silent for a few moments. Adrien thought she wasn’t going to answer, so he was ready to move on with another question. But she interrupted him before he could. “It started when I lost my job at one of the boutiques downtown,” she started in a low voice with an unrecognizable tone. “I-I don’t know what I did wrong! I always showed up 15 minutes early, I turned in all my projects on time, pitched new ideas, restocked the materials when they ran low, kept my workspace clean, and sometimes I even brought everyone frappes and pastries from my parents’ bakery.” She paused to wipe furiously at her eyes. “That job was everything I needed, everything.”

Adrien watched her with sympathetic eyes. Giving her a gentle, understanding frown, he urged her to continue. “Why was the job so important to you?” He already knew the answer to that, though.

Marinette’s passion since long before high school had always been designing and sewing. Adrien picked up on this in high school when he was lucky enough to not only see her design pad but experience some of her projects first-hand. The girl made her own clothes, gifts for her friends, and even entered a derby hat contest that his father put on (which she, of course, won with her amazing pigeon feather hat). Being aware of this passion, Adrien had always assumed she would become a famous designer like his father. Instead, she had taken the job at the boutique. Which, of course, there was nothing wrong with. But, clearly, it hadn’t worked out.

Adrien really didn’t understand why. If everything Marinette said was true, which he truly believed it was, there was no reason her boss should have fired her. He urged her to continue once more, eager to find out what stupid flaw her boss had found.

“She told me she couldn’t afford to keep me around. I was shocked, considering I had the same pay as everyone else. Which in my opinion, I deserved way more,” she sneered. “I was so surprised, mainly because I was her lead designer. Why would she fire me? I was the head of all of her projects, I came up with all the ideas, I thought I was going to be promoted to manager!” she said in exasperation.

Adrien listened carefully as she continued. “Then, I found out the real reason why she fired me,” she seethed. “On my way out the following few days, I met my replacement. Andrea Sinclair, 23 years old. She was fresh out of college and had never had a job at a boutique before. And yet, not only did she take my job, she got her own office, was appointed to a manager position, and was making three times the amount that I was making when I left. Do you believe that? Replaced by an undertrained college grad.” She let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “Just my luck.”

She continued then. “After I lost my job, I couldn’t afford to pay my rent. I was going to move back in with my parents, but I was too embarrassed. Alya offered, I’m sure you remember her,” she glanced at him briefly, “so I ended up staying with her for three months before finding a cheaper place. The conditions were awful, but it was nearly half of what I was previously paying so it was great in some respects.” Somehow the last part came out with a sarcastic bite to it.

“Once I got my new place, I tried looking for another job. I made it through countless interviews before I finally got one, at the music and film shop downtown. ‘Charming Melodies,’ it’s called. You’ve probably never heard of it,” she let out another dry laugh. “Anyways, after I moved in I lost contact with my family. I didn’t want them to find out about what happened to me. How was I supposed to tell them that their only daughter was a failure? They had always supported my dreams--I didn’t want them to regret it.”

Adrien frowned. “Marinette . . . Don't you have any contact with them? At all?” When Marinette opened her mouth to reply, he cut her off. “Don’t answer that. I understand that you’ve been through a tough time. But hey--you’re still here! Believe it or not, that’s an accomplishment in itself. It may not be a huge one, but it is one nonetheless.” He gazed at her and pressed his mouth into a thin line. “Family is important, Marinette. And I know that you know this deep down inside. Regardless of how things are now, how they were in the past, or how they’ll be in the future, your family will always understand and be there for you. It’s their job,” he emphasized.

“Easy for you to say,” Marinette scoffed to mask the effect of his words.

Adrien’s eyes narrowed, and he slammed on his breaks. The car jolted, and Marinette would have flown forward if it wasn’t for his arm coming out to stop her. “Get out,” he said tersely.

Marinette stared at him in shock, in the process of sobering up. When she slowly looked to her right, she saw that they had arrived at Adrien’s current resident. Her jaw dropped, but another glare from Adrien made her scramble out of the car.

Though she hadn’t noticed it before, they had gone through a huge iron gate. An intricate design made it look more elegant than scary, thankfully enough. Beyond the gate lay a long, winding driveway, which was where Adrien was taking the car. Marinette headed up the side, using the blanket to cover her head. She stumbled a bit, due to the haze of the alcohol.

Not taking the time to consider why Adrien shoved her out of the car so soon, the answer graced her anyways. As the garage door opened, Marinette could see an array of fancy sports cars in sight. Reds, blues, rose golds, silvers, and matte black blobs wandered across her vision. Had she been sober and in better health, Marinette was sure she could identify all of them.

The actual house itself was no less impressive. As the LED floodlights turned on, she could see a vast green lawn in the front of the house. The huge mansion seemed to reach the stars. With its white pillars and circle drive, it kept the authentic French architecture to the tee. Large double doors and beautiful windows framed by elegant shutters came into view as she got closer. A running fountain with a small waterway that wrapped around the property contained brightly colored fish, which Marinette gazed at with wide eyes. The stone pathway branched off the driveway, which she took with hesitance. She wrapped her arms around herself as she took it all in.

Reaching the front door, Marinette heard the garage close. Footsteps soon could be depicted above the pouring rain and trickling of the fountain. Adrien came into view, shouldering his way past Marinette. He stepped up the wide staircase, standing in front of the double doors. He glanced over his shoulder at Marinette, the same pissed expression on his face as in the car. He pressed his finger onto a small device plastered to the left of the doors, and a quiet dinging noise was heard. The doors unlocked, and Adrien swung then open and stepped inside.

Marinette scrambled to follow him. The inside of the house was just as impressive as the outside. Trying to keep her jaw from dropping, she removed the blanket front her shoulders and waited for instructions from Adrien. He had yet to speak to her since his sudden mood change in the car. The drunken Marinette was left to finally wonder what she’d done wrong. Was it something she said that set him off?

“You can put the blanket on the floor over there,” Adrien instructed with a vague gesture in the direction he was referring to. He began to take off his coat, shaking it off at the doormat and hanging it on the rack on the opposite wall.

Marinette did as she was told and tossed the blanket, her eyes wandering around the room. Adrien pressed a button on the wall, the lights flooding on. “Welcome, Mr. Agreste,” a woman’s robotic voice spoke overhead. Marinette jumped in surprise. A stunning, very large kitchen with all of the latest appliances came into view. The floor had an open floor plan, the living room being off the kitchen. Large, comfy sofas and equally comfortable chairs faced a wide flat screen TV.

“Sit down,” Adrien offered, his voice guarded. He motioned to a chair in the kitchen. “I’ll be right back. A few minutes later, he returned from down the hall with clothes tucked under his arm. He tossed them to her, and she barely managed to catch them. “There’s a bathroom down the hall,” he told her, passing her by and filling up a glass with water.

Marinette nodded numbly and fondled the clothes. She wandered down the hall to the bathroom. Stepping inside and flicking on the light. Closing the door behind her, she fumbled with her wet clothes. Upon opening the others, she saw a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt. Both were extremely big on her, but they were warm and smelled like Adrien’s cologne, so she certainly wasn’t complaining.

After dressing, she splashed some water on her face. Afterward, she took in the size and elegance of the bathroom. It disgusted her how rich Adrien was. He may have worked hard for his wealth, but he was born into a very wealthy family. Marinette glared at the jacuzzi in the corner of the room with a fire in her eyes. How were some people this fortunate while others were struggling to make ends meet? It just wasn’t fair.

Marinette tried to mentally prepare herself to see Adrien again. Heading out of the bathroom and to the kitchen, she found two pills and a glass of water waiting for her. Staring at the setup suspiciously, she looked around for where he could have gone. She found him reclining on one of the comfy-looking sofas, flicking through channels on the TV.

“Hey,” she called to him, walking closer. When he didn’t reply or look in her direction, she clenched her fists and stomped over. Standing in front of him and blocking his view, she waved her hands and seethed at him. “HEY.”

Adrien sighed deeply through his nose and slowly looked up at her. “Yes?” he replied slowly, as if it irritated him.

Marinette crossed her arms. “I don’t appreciate being ignored,” she somewhat slurred. “What are those pills for?”

Adrien massaged his temples. “They’re painkillers. Take them if you want, I don’t care.”

Upon his response, Marinette was fed up with his sudden attitude. “Listen, Agreste. I didn’t beg to come to your fancy house. You invited me here. So stop acting like I crawled on all fours and harassed you to grace me with your elegant riches and fortunes!”

Adrien was suddenly standing, his face inches from her own. His towering height intimidated her, but she tried to mask it. “Do you have any idea how much what you said in the car pissed me off? How much it hurt me?”

Marinette, taken by surprise, stumbled backward a few steps. “W-What?”

“That’s right, you thought you were the only one with problems,” Adrien laughed bitterly.

The anger returned to Marinette’s eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. CEO. Not all of us have our life cut out for us by a rich daddy,” she snapped. “And before you say ANYTHING, let me speak. I get that you worked hard, I of all people know what hard work is like. But you were set up for success the day you were born. You may not have had the ideal family life, but you were always pushed to succeed. You were born into a wealthy, well-off family with a famous father for leverage in the business world. And look, you even got to take over his company. So excuse me for being a bit pissed off at--”

“At what? Another person’s fortune?” Adrien cut in. “Drunk or not, you really need to think before you talk. Something tells me you’re no different sober,” he hissed. “And for your information, I don’t know what it’s like to have a family that loves and cares for me. So the fact that you even thought of throwing that in my face was a whole new low for you, Marinette,” he spat.

Before Marinette could respond, Adrien continued. “I was thrust into an abusive family life. My mother was the only thing keeping my father at bay, and once she was gone, he was free to be the tyrant he is. But you appeared to have forgotten that, right? Because I’m clearly perfect and have everything I want. How could a rich man like me have any problems? Hm?” he snarled. Taking a look at the wounded expression on Marinette’s face, he took a step back himself and fell back onto the sofa. Sighing, he ran a hand over his face tiredly. He was supposed to be helping Marinette, and here he was yelling at her. But when someone made comments about his home life as a child, it always triggered him. “Sit down,” he instructed.

Marinette stared at him for a few awkward moments, not saying anything at all. Finally, she took a seat a ways away from him on the couch. Hugging her knees to her chest, she stared at the TV, which was playing an old crime show. Adrien flicked it off, glancing at her briefly to see her response. She gave him none.

Finally, she turned to him with the fakest smile she could muster. “I never said your life was perfect, Adrien. But you are certainly well-off financially,” she snapped. “I didn’t say you had the ideal home life. But you were set up for success the day you were born, and continued to succeed in life from that day forward.” She paused momentarily to take a breath, before continuing. “I’m clearly deep in the poverty level of Paris, though I’m lucky enough to have a roof over my head and at least some clothes to wear. So excuse me for being jealous that I’m struggling to put food on the table and pay rent while someone else is sitting in a tub full of jets drinking expensive red wine.”

Adrien frowned at this, opening his mouth to counter an argument. But Marinette was not finished. “I didn’t come here for pity,” she insisted. “I’m simply answering your question. You asked me why my life had gone to sh*t, and I told you. And then you proceeded to make it appear that my problems were much lesser than yours.” Tears began filling up in her eyes. “So I’m sorry that your father wasn’t the ideal role model for you. I’m sorry you had to deal with that pressure and abuse. It shouldn’t be undermined at all.” She sniffled and wiped the forming tears from her eyes. “But at least you can afford the luxury of a nice place to live, a fancy car or twenty to drive, and a feast on the table every night. Because some people don’t have half of what you do.”

Staring at her with renewed sympathy, Adrien made his offer carefully. “Why don’t you stay a while? I can cook you a warm meal, and give you a nice bed to sleep in.” He quickly backtracked. “I-I have a lot of guest rooms I mean,” he corrected, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Clearing his throat, he continued. “You don’t have to stay long. Just long enough to get your life back in order.” Marinette began to shake her head, but this time he wasn’t finished. “I know you don’t like accepting my help, but I assure you it isn’t charity. I just want to help an old friend.”

“I wouldn’t even accept Alya’s help anymore, what would she say if I told her about this?” Marinette attempted to scoff, but it lacked the bite she was hoping for. She hated to admit it, but Adrien was giving her a really nice offer.

“Then how about this: You stay the night in one of my guest rooms. I cook you a late dinner, and you can have a bath in the hot tub. Sleep in as late as you want. Tomorrow, I cook you a nice breakfast and you head out and apply for some jobs. Then,” he smiled at her somewhat sadly, “call your family. Let them know what you’re still going strong, despite the circumstances. Tell them what happened, Marinette. I knew your parents, they love you. They’ll understand and offer to help in any way possible. Trust me on this one.”

Marinette pondered all that he had said, trying to find the flaws in it. One night couldn’t be so bad, could it? Her eyes wandered around the room, and she hesitantly nodded her head. “I guess one night couldn’t hurt . . .” she trailed off in a quiet voice.

Adrien’s face lit up. “Perfect! I mean, that’s great,” he coughed awkwardly. “I’ll go prepare the guest room and then warm up something for you to eat. While I do that, please take the Tylenol and glass of water on the counter.” Upon seeing Marinette’s suspicious expression, he sighed. “Throw out those pills if you don’t trust me. There’s an unopened bottle in the medicine cabinet up there if you would rather get it yourself.”

Though Marinette trusted Adrien to some extent, they hadn’t seen each other in a while. She wanted to take caution, and she was glad that he understood. Nodding, she waited for him to leave the room before tossing the pills on the counter and getting the ones from the unopened bottle he had referenced. After guzzling the water and taking the pills, she waited on a barstool for Adrien to come back.

Moments later he returned and headed to the fridge. The two ended up eating cold pizza. Adrien had offered to cook for her, but Marinette insisted that it was much too late for that and she wasn’t hungry enough to eat a full meal this late.

After the two ate in silence, Adrien led her to a guest room on the third floor of the estate. “There are pajamas over there to the left,” he instructed when they entered the large room. “The bathroom is to your right, and the closet is on the far wall. Your wet clothes are in the dryer and I’ll have them to you by morning. Relax a bit and get some rest,” he said.

Marinette nodded, entering the room and taking in the sheer size and elegance of it. A large, four-poster bed caught her attention, an array of pillows and warm blankets spread out on the tall mattress. Remembering something he had said, she whirled around and asked, “Where did you get the pajamas from?” She wasn’t opposed to wearing his if that was what he had meant.

Adrien looked over his shoulder and gave her a sad smile. “They were my mother’s.” Then he softly closed the door and left her alone with her thoughts.

After what was possibly the best bath of her life, Marinette changed into Mrs. Agreste’s old pajamas and relaxed on the bed. Oddly enough, they fit almost perfectly, just being a bit big since Marinette had gotten so thin. She found that the mattress was like sleeping on clouds. She was out the second her head hit the pillow and didn’t wake up until morning.

❦ ❦ ❦

The next morning, Adrien woke to a quiet house. After freshening up and heading downstairs, he prepared to make breakfast for Marinette. However, a small note caught his eye on the counter. Picking it up, he opened it with a frown.

It read:

_Dear Adrien,_

_I want to thank you for all that you’ve done for me. Letting you take me home last night was quite possibly the best decision I’ve made in a long time. I got to catch up with an old friend, eat a meal at midnight, take a nice bath, and sleep in the most comfortable bed in Paris. You really sobered me up Agreste, and I’m not just referring to the effects of the alcohol._

_I’m going to get my life back in order. I’m going to call my parents, to tell them everything. I’m going to update Alya, who has been with me through it all and doesn’t deserve to be in the dark. I’m going to apply for another job at a boutique, to save up for a renewed degree in the design school of my dreams. And most importantly, I’m going to stop drinking so much. I’ve already made an appointment with a class that’s starting up next week, to help me through my problem._

_I owe this newfound enthusiasm all to you, Adrien. Thank you for all that you’ve done for me in a short amount of time. You really opened my eyes, something others have tried in the past but were unable to accomplish._

_I wanted to leave before you came back because you’ve had enough of me for one day, haha. Thank you again, I really appreciate this._

_Sincerely,_

_Marinette <3_

On the back of the note, Adrien found a phone number. Underneath, the caption said:

_P.S. See you next Tuesday. ;)_

**Author's Note:**

> A.n. Some people on Amino were asking for a sequel. This was one-part for a reason because I only write the plot out to be one part. Non-writers won't understand, unfortunately. :/ But I hope some of you enjoyed reading this! Kudos are appreciated if you enjoyed. <3


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